


Spencer Reid's Hidden Partner

by PannyBx



Category: Criminal Minds, X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Multi, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-03
Updated: 2015-11-29
Packaged: 2018-04-12 18:34:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4490319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PannyBx/pseuds/PannyBx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary change as of 4/8/15:<br/>Six years at Caltech and Spencer, now twenty, meets Remy, hiding from an anti-mutant security guard. Remy, still new to the X-men but accustomed to living in secret, keeps their relationship secret for fear of his own enemies getting to him. As times goes on, neither can keep their love secret and with the natural dangers of both their jobs, how will the high-target couple cope in a world that would already hate them, and is now on the verge of monumental political change.</p><p>If you have any suggestions, please let me know! :) x</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Help a Cajun out, mon ami?

**Author's Note:**

> Thankyou everyone for your comments! Thanks to you I've had a brainstorm :) x  
> Updates will be regular, promise :) x

Mentally, Spencer created a quick pro/con list for doing the 1 hour and 32 minutes of reading now, or getting 8 hours of sleep. Eventually deciding on sleep just because it was the last day of term anyway, he began to pack up his work. There were raised voices from the entrance of the library, something that hadn’t happened in the six years he had been at Caltech; he only recognised the head librarian’s voice and what appeared to a security guard’s. Worried, Spencer turned the corner for a closer look, just in time for the air to whoosh out of him and his eyes to blackout as someone crashed into him.

“Shit! Désole, mon ami, mais could y’ help a po’ Cajun out, maybe?” The man rushed, pulling up Spencer as he spoke. Quickly recovering, Spencer took in the man in front of him.

He was an inch _(inch and a half?)_ taller than him, but much more muscled and filled out, in a lean way that spoke of experience instead of gym-junkie. An old but cared for trench coat covered his frame. He had shaggy auburn hair that touched his shoulders and handsome features, though half his face was obscured by thick sunglasses that had slipped down his nose. His eyes, though, were easily his most beautiful and shocking feature, having an inky black sclera and burning, bright ruby irises. Mutant, then. Eyes that were currently wide, panicked and locked on his own. Quickly adding the Cajun mutant’s presence to the escalating yelling at the desk, he nodded and yanked the man further into the library, towards the cupboard that held the translated books. Pushing him in there, he registered the yelling getting closer and grabbed a Russian translation of Great Expectations before turning around.

“Oi! Have you seen some bastard running through here? A tall mutant with a dodgy accent.” The security guard was fuming and Spencer made sure he was appropriately intimidated.

This made the librarian, if possible, angrier; Spencer had known Mrs. Turner since his first day at Caltech and, already a very maternal woman, she had looked out for him over the years.

“Honestly! Harassing my students!” Technically, that wasn’t true, but it did make her sound more threatening to the guard, “now get out! No one has come past here! You have probably already lost him, throwing a temper tantrum here!”

As her words registered, he cursed, but seemed determined to at least seem professional.

“And you haven’t seen anything? What’ve you bin doing?”

Spencer held up the book as evidence, “I was looking for this, I wanted to work on my Russian over the holiday.” His voice was stutter-scared and confused, and since he was both, his awful lying didn’t show. Mrs. Turner, accustomed to Spencer and easily accepting the excuse, all but shoved the man out the library before getting back to her paperwork, as Spencer went back to his desk, making his way through his previously abandoned reading list. When the ridged line of her shoulders relaxed, Spencer began to make his way back to the cupboard.

Opening it, he saw the man sat on a pile of books, making the action much more casual and relaxed than possible for the cramped space. His glasses were firmly back on his nose, but he had an almost lazy grin on his face.

“So, m’ skinny knight in checked armour,” Spencer looked down at his pale, checked shirt and blushed, which, of course, he saw, “ah, ain’t y’ somet’in. So, y’ gonna spring po’ Remy here?”

Unable to help it, though he was definitely confused, he smiled back with a chest high half wave.

“Mrs. Turner has calmed down and the security guard’s gone, as long as you’re subtle, you should be able to leave without being harassed. Based on what they were yelling,” _and what Mrs. Turner refused to say_ , “I’m guessing it was more mutant blaming than an actual crime.”

“Y’ got Remy dere, mon cher, admittedly- an’ I ain’t claiming t’ be no saint- but I was just tryin’ t’ find an old ami dat needed some help, mais, of course, hangin’ round a uni when some alarms were goin’ off is _not_ de best idea… Remy wouldn’t have gotten caught, mais I don’t know de area all dat well.”

Spencer nodded, there was no proof, but he did know that there was a group of freshmen that wanted to ‘prove’ themselves, all of which have want-to-be-alpha male personalities, which could explain the alarm. Mutants, in the eye of the general public, not to mention law enforcement, were below all minorities. Things like this happened so frequently it was almost expected.

“So, um, who is your friend?” It was unlikely he’d know him/her, never mind where they lived, but there was always a chance.

Remy gave him a considering look- probably wondering how trustworthy he was. Spencer didn’t mind; the man’s defensive manner and physical mutation meant he’d probably had problems like this before.

“If it helps you reach a conclusion, I’m the most socially awkward and unaware person on campus, however, I do know the complete layout of the university campus and have an eidetic memory, so if I’ve seen/heard them taking about their dorm, I’ll most likely remember it.”

Spencer was surprised at his uncharacteristic boldness, but, unusually, felt comfortable around the man to do it. This didn’t stop it from coming out in a stuttered mess though. The Cajun himself looked shocked, but recovered quickly and changed his expression… half considering, half… fond?

“Not dat I don’t appreciate de help y’ve given m’, homme, but why’d y’ want t’ help little old m’?”

That was a question, one that’ll probably determine how Remy views him and whether he will accept any help. In truth, Spencer couldn’t stand prejudice, in any form. His mother was schizophrenic; he was a socially incompetent child prodigy- it was something he lived with. Prejudice and discrimination has been the leading factor in some of the most atrocious acts in history, the things that make you question the sanity of the human race and their right to be on the earth. Then, of course, is just the natural feeling, of looking at something and thinking _wrong._ Personally, logically and morally, prejudice made no sense. Spencer didn’t know how to put this into words in a coherent way. Mainly though, he thought the man needed some help, as simple as that.

“Well, er, for one, you might need help if you’re not familiar with the university, especially since, as you’ve no doubt found, most people here are not particularly pro-mutant. It’s the end of term, so whoever you’re looking for, you may want to find soon. Prejudice in all forms is abhorrent. And, um, well, you seem like you needed help, so I offered…?”

He trailed off under Remy’s amused, though admittedly cautious, eyes.

“Well, when y’r so nice about it, his name is Peter and he’s a family friend whose very late coming into his powers- we never even knew he was a mutant.” Remy seemed to understand a bit of what he had tried to say and let him ‘off the hook’ as Ethan would say- one of his more explainable idioms at any rate.

Spencer nodded, he had no clue what Remy’s mutation was, but he guessed he had a fair level of control and understood the benefit of having someone help you through that change.

Apparently, Remy was waiting for some kind of negative reaction, probably explaining why he didn’t give a second name, just Peter.

“Peter Reynolds, m’ papa knows his family here. Helped m’ papa out a couple o’ times, too.”

Spencer nodded, recognition coming. “A Peter Reynolds uses the same lab as me for chemistry, is he 26 and working on a pharmaceuticals phD?” Peter Reynolds is roommates with Luke Benson, who sits next to him in sociology. Luke is 26, nice, polite and talks to him when the teacher is late; he often complains about his dorm and general living standards. He’s mentioned 16 times that he lives in the Catalina Graduate Apartment Complex, 7 times that he lives on the third floor and once that he faces east. He is close friends with Peter, but left early to join his girlfriend’s family on holiday- if Peter was struggling through the transition, he wouldn’t be found out by his roommate. Remy nodded. “Okay then, I know the building, floor and what area he is in, not the specific room. His roommate, Luke, left earlier this week so won’t see Peter if he has difficulties through the transition.”

Remy seemed to have decided that, yes, Spencer _was_ just a student and was probably trustworthy, so jumped out of the cupboard, much more gracefully than he should have. Spencer was admittedly transfixed by his fluid movements, especially when he thought about his own, pathetic coordination.

“Alright den, mind showin’ m’ de way? F’r safety reasons dat is.” Muttered Remy, a bit too close than what Spencer had thought socially acceptable for strangers. Under Remy’s appraising gaze, Spencer blushed, but stayed where he was; despite this being one of his most confusing exchanges, he had also never felt so comfortable this quickly around someone. He wanted to see where this would go.

Spencer thought it was mutual, because ‘safety reasons’ from this man, to Spencer, was hilarious. His cheeks pulled up into a grin and he huffed out a quiet laugh.

“That’s not the most believable excuse I’ve heard; I think you could have done better.”

“Coming from de kid whose ‘working on his Russian’?”

“Я на самом деле обучения по-русски.”

Remy chuckled, holding up his hands, and Spencer smiled, looking down before saying, “my accent is always abysmal though, no matter the language.”

“Well, y’ve impressed m’, an’ I ain’t one who can judge an accent. Except French, y’r not butchering dat one, mon cher.”

“My name’s Spencer Reid,” he held his hand out, though Remy was so close the action nearly made him touch the others chest, “though I’m not opposed to ‘dear’ at the moment.” He was going to say ‘from you’, but switched it quickly; he didn’t have the nerve to say something like that, although his smile was more comfortable and quietly confident than anything he’d had outside his mother and Ethan.

“Y’r vraiment beau when y’ smile like dat, cher.” He took his hand.

Spencer felt the red stain in his cheeks spread as vasodilation occurred, causing a larger volume of blood flow. He couldn’t meet Remy’s eyes. Automatically, against everything he would usually say in a situation like this, he muttered, “your eyes, they’re your best feature,” and quickly hoped Remy hadn’t heard. If the expression of shock, and the spreading grin was anything to go by, he probably had.

“Remy LeBeau,” he released his hand, “well den, mon cher, y’ best lead de way.”


	2. The time between (p1)

Spencer did help Remy find Peter, with not a minute to spare. Coming into his powers was a horrible ordeal for him; he had a physical mutation and the transition was…painful. Remy, while he had been with, what Spencer had deduced to be the X-men, for almost a year, wasn’t sure how to handle it medically. This meant Spencer had to help smuggle Peter out of the building, so he could be taken to someone referred to as ‘Beast’.

Spencer had honestly and painfully thought that that was the last he would see of the stranger, but before Remy had left he gave him his number, “drop m’ a call, mon cher? If y’re ever up f’r a chat, oui?”

Spencer had nodded; despite being so comfortable around him he still struggled to find words. Seeing the Cajun’s face drop when he didn’t return his gesture made him quickly turn with a half wave of goodbye. Remy had called out, “dat’s it?” concealing his disappointment behind his usual cocky visage.

Turning, Spencer called out, “give me a call too, okay, Remy?” and tapped his right ear.

Before he turned the corner, he heard a startled laugh and curse as Remy pulled a folded playing card- from his own deck- with Spencer’s number scrawled on the back from behind his right ear.

From there, they had text each other back and forth randomly; sometimes light-hearted, sometimes personal and a lot designed to shock or make the other laugh. Spencer, who was admittedly a technophobe, preferring the books in his hands, had told Remy that this was an exception. That’s when the letters came. Beautiful, expressive letters and Spencer could read as much in the shape of the writing as he could in the actual words. The phone calls didn’t stop, but Spencer treasured the act of consideration.

It was also through this communication that Spencer learned about Remy’s ‘southern belle’. In the month they had been talking, Remy had mentioned her on four different occasions. The first was them reconciling, the second was a ‘break’, and then a make up on the third, before a break up. Spencer thought the fourth was related to some sort of incident with the X-men, because soon after Remy was on his way to California to do some low level work, claiming his powers were a bit weak at the moment, but he didn’t want to be babied. When Spencer asked about his theory, Remy dropped the phone, cursed and half-yelled, “y’ know!” down the phone, his unfazed attitude snapping in shock. Remy was _not_ impressed with Spencer’s “yes”, nor was he with his explanation to how he had guessed at his first meeting, how the ‘southern belle’ was probably Rogue and that Remy was undoubtedly Gambit.

But then Remy had laughed and Spencer released a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

They met up upon his arrival and during that week Spencer had never had so much fun, been so alive, as he had with Remy. But, he had also never been in so much pain. He knew what his feelings were, where they were headed, and he knew Remy was with someone else. Remy was already committed to someone. He felt like shouting, pleading, yelling, but let himself get wrapped up in Remy’s presence and laughter. 

Three days later Remy came back, barging into the flat before Spencer had let go of the handle. Spencer felt a hand on his neck, on his cheek and jaw, and then Remy was kissing him.  

Spencer lived in a world of facts and figures, studying the rules of the world. Things that was real. _Proven_. However, nothing in the world felt more real, more true, than Remy’s lips against his own.

_“It’s y’, Penny, it’ll always be y’.”_

It was 00:23 when Remy appeared on his door, and Spencer would always remember the moment, down to the second. For some reason, this made Remy even smugger than normal.

Eventually, Remy returned to the X-men, it was what he believed in, and Spencer could read between the lines in media enough to know that they weren’t the terrorists they were made out to be.

The years passed, and their relationship remained reasonably secret. Though Spencer never outright lied, in truth, apart from Dianne, he talked to no one enough for them to learn much about his social life. Between Spencer’s social unawareness, the distance and their work/studies, Remy was never seen on campus enough for it to be an issue. Remy argued that this was for the best, after all, he had made enemies in his life, was a mutant and an X-man- he may as well have a flashing, neon sign that says ‘target’ over his head.

It was on Remy’s end that it was much harder to keep Spencer a secret. He had close friends, family and a furious ex (“de woman’s snappin’ at m’ heels like a hound o’ hell, Penny!”) that wanted an explanation. During the following years, most of his team just guessed he had a girl in secret, which Remy never corrected. He remembered when he slipped and mentioned ‘Penny’. His team was so gloating, so smug, and unbearably proud at catching the thief out, he didn’t have the heart to break it to them that they not only had the name wrong, but the gender.

Rogue was, and always will be, someone that Remy would keep close to his heart. But Spencer, despite being almost painfully honest, had stolen it more skilfully than any Master Thief could boast. Maybe Rogue sensed that, because, after nine weeks of vicious confrontations and heartbreak, they moved on. It was in a different way, and, in many ways, an even closer way. Rogue became one of his closest, most trusted friends, halfway between a sister and what Remy could only describe as a friend of the soul. When the air cleared, the pair often joked that they probably have just avoided causing themselves a lot of heartache and anger in the future.

The only real fight they had had was a couple of months into their relationship, when Spencer met Jason Gideon and found _his_ cause. Spencer listened throughout the lecture, knowing instantly that profiling was a work of art; it was ingenious. He loved the contrast, the solid facts and murky speculation of human behaviour. More than anything, Spencer saw his chance to help, to make an active difference outside a lab or library.

Enthralled, he sat through the entire lecture, memorising it while already listing the questions he needed to ask. It was when he got to question 12, _(how do you think changing gender norms will affect your current profiling method?),_ that it struck him. He would never be able to do this. He had no law enforcement experience, was- _extremely_ \- co-ordinately challenged and then there was Remy. The first person to ever show true affection towards him that wasn’t obligated to. The first person to show romantic interest in him ever. And, without doubt, the person that Spencer was completely in love with. Remy had his love and his loyalty… But Remy also had his cause, his X-men, his Guild… surely he would understand? This was something bigger than himself that he could believe in.

But Remy was Remy. Remy was a thief; a master thief. Remy was a mutant, a powerful mutant that actively fought for change. The government was against him in every way and he distained every person in a position of authority and Spencer couldn’t blame him. The government looked down upon him, basically, because he was different. The very thought twisted his gut; it was intolerable and, no, Spencer definitely couldn’t be part of it. Resignedly, he began to pick up his books.

“…on a different note, at the BAU, we pride ourselves at being the first- and currently only- mutant friendly department of the FBI. We are, always, completely neutral towards the mutant status of our employees and mutant prejudices do not affect our profiling in any way; if the victim is a mutant, we will try just as hard to bring them justice. If the unsub is, then we will not be harder on them because of their status. In fact, the only time it would be mentioned is when building the profile, just as other factors, such as age and gender, would play a part of the unsub’s psychology…”

People left, at least a quarter, while a half of the remainders began shifting uneasily in their seats. Spencer, however, sat back down; hope crawling back into his chest. Jason Gideon- a legend of BAU history- saw this and met Spencer’s eyes to nod approvingly.

After the lecture, Spencer finally cut through the crowd of admirers to ask the most important question that rose from the two hours.

“Did you mean what you said on the status of mutants in the BAU?”

…..

“Non! No, Spencer, y’ can’t be serious! De FB-fuckin’-I! What?”

“Remy, I know this… is unexpected, but Gideon went through it with me-“

“One guy! One guy to show an entire department! Non, dat’s not real! Jesus! I thought y’ were _smart_ , Penny. Christ. Dis is de fuckin’ stupidest idea I’ve ever heard!”

Remy paced furiously in front of him, his trench coat trailing behind him like a shadow and his head ducked down, hiding his face. Only his eyes, bright as they were, showed his face; his sunglasses had been cast aside as usual when they were together. Grimacing, Spencer could not help but regret that now as they were not there to mute the anger in his face.

“Gideon is a founder of the BAU. Remy, I swear, the BAU is completely mutant-neutral, in every way. Gideon’s son is even a known mutant. If it wasn’t, I’d have walked out the lecture.”

Remy didn’t even acknowledge him and Spencer felt anger rising. Generally, he was completely ignored, pushed aside as he stood outside the norms: too young, too smart, too awkward. Or, he was given extra attention, seen as weaker, lesser, ‘special’- coveted, by some, either wanting to show the ‘genius’ they taught or the charity case they took. Remy did neither. Remy always treated him as an equal, just as he did with everyone else. The only ways him treated him differently were private, born out of love.

So hearing him like this, refusing to listen, it just… was wrong, so very wrong.

“Y’ can’t do dis, Spencer! It’s too dangerous f’ y’.”

He snapped.

“Remy!” He looked up, stumbling slightly at Spencer- in his personal space, locking onto his eyes, not blinking. “Do you expect me to listen to you talking about danger? Every time you walk out the door you don’t just fight the monsters, you do so while going against the law. You put yourself in everyone’s line of fire because you’re fighting for your cause, your dream, what you think is right. And because of that, I don’t complain. I keep my fears inside and I let you go. Because I love you and would never ask that sacrifice of you. It’s not my right, or my place. I have you running through the back of my mind always, going through the various scenarios you could be in, the different ways you could get hurt- killed! And it never stops. But this, this is mine. This is my chance to help the world in my way. I can do this- I have been doing this all my life. You can’t stop me, and, if you love me, if you really, really do, like I love you, you’ll accept this.”

“I do love y’ Spencer, Dieu, I do. But…” Remy looked at Spencer, really looked. With a jolt, he realised they were the same height when Spencer wasn’t stooping, hunched and looking down. Hell, he even had some height on him. Spencer didn’t raise his voice once. But it was hard, he didn’t stutter once, or waver. He didn’t _need_ to be loud; he had an authority, a power in the gentleness of his voice that was infinitely better, but even more the terrible for it.

Spencer’s inner strength was one of the main reasons Remy was attracted to him. Maybe because it was so subtle; he didn’t put it on show. He was a walking contradiction.

But this was his Spencer, going into a place that would challenge him on every level; his Spencer, walking into gunfire; his Spencer, dealing with psychopaths.

His Spencer on the side of the people he fought against- his enemy’s side.

Remy left the building.

 

 

 

 


	3. Remy get's some sense slapped into him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can't apologise enough for the wait! Thank you so much for the comments and kudos, I will explain properly on the next chapter, promise x

Remy stalked through the now-familiar alleys and jitties of the Caltech University silently cursing Jason Gideon to the seventh circle of hell, or maybe to become Lucifer’s babysitter.

Spencer had never really talked about what he wanted to do after university, something that had always worried Remy. The man had enough degrees to go into pretty much any line of work and Remy had slowly seen how their relationship had made Spencer more comfortable in his skin- no wonder this Gideon had to spend so little time convincing him- so his extreme lack of social skills would be something they could work with. Essentially, Spencer was limitless to what he could do.

Even with this.

Sure, he’d have to work on the physical aspect. But everything standing in the way of this career is fixable. Spencer _could_ do this. Hell, he’d be brilliant; his brain would be coveted and when targeted against killers, nothing would stop them.

And that was terrifying. 

 

Eventually, Remy found himself sitting inside a dingy, cheap bar that had enough people in it to fend of the depression of the place. Normally, he would be able to plaster on a smile- or at least prioritize enough to have a night out for the love of god! Even with Rogue he managed to go out and have a laugh when things were bad. Now, everyone seemed to automatically avoid him, instead of gravitate towards him. Earlier he had smiled at the bartender and he had _no idea_ what came out on his face because she just nodded and shuffled awkwardly away. It seemed tonight was the night for everything; his all-but pacifist boyfriend wanted to join the FBI and Remy LeBeau couldn’t charm a smile out of a pretty girl.  

Five beers and three shots later he decided what was stopping him from having a good night and forgetting about the fight was because he didn’t have a familiar face nearby. He grabbed his phone and dialled Wolvie to get his ass down here.

An hour later, Logan thought that he either had been seriously drugged or had even fallen into an alternate reality, because here he was, playing the sympathetic ear to a drunk out his mind, half-miserable, half-furious Cajun. Remy was never going to live this down. Logan had been aware-who wasn’t?- that he and Rogue had split several months ago, for which he was incredibly relieved- those two fought like cat and dog, to the point that he thought only one would make it out their relationship alive. He’d also known that Remy had met someone else, which played a part, but was not the determining factor of their split. Unlike all his other conquests, Remy never mentioned her, she was pure speculation. But Logan was sure that she must have some kind of mind mutation to cause a reaction like this in Remy, whom he had never seen be so depressed over a fight.

When Remy had got to the point where his charm had leaked and, instead of thriving in the hormonal mess of a student bar, seemed to drain the energy from the place; he was cursing angrily at walls instead of people (bar fights were common for them) and he could no longer form a sentence, Logan decided to take him back to his girlfriend’s.

“Come on, bub, what’s her address?”

Remy seemed to find that amusing and burst out laughing, going limp and making Logan stumble as he was trying to hold him up.

“M’ Penny, Penny lives…” He laughed again and kept emphasizing ‘Penny’ like some great secret, but eventually Logan got the address from him. Admittedly, he was incredibly curious to see who had Remy so wound up.

“She won’t mind looking after your drunken ass will she? I’m not dragging you there just for her to turn us away.”

Logan ducked back from the remarkably on target punch that Remy threw.

“M’ Penny wouldn’t turn us ‘way… huge heart… get h’ in t-trouble. Dieu, mais il sera blesse! Il est trop gentil…” Remy’s gloom returned twice fold as he said ‘trouble’ and Logan could just make out his French mumbles.

Finally, Logan found himself inside a small student accommodation, which surprised him a bit, and knocking on a door, hoping this Penny wouldn’t be too pissed at being woken up and having to look after a now passed out Remy.

Like everyone else that knew the Cajun, he had a mental picture from the few slithers of information they’d gained over the months. All he really had that was concrete though was she was smart and bid-hearted, and now apparently a student. There was some shuffling from inside, a light being turned on, and a pause outside the door- Logan guessed she was looking through the spy-hole- before the door opened.

Logan didn’t drop Remy in shock; he had too much training for that, but his jaw did drop.

In the doorway was a young man, practically still a kid, who couldn’t be past twenty. He was tall, easily as tall as Remy, but was incredibly thin, all wiry muscle and no fat. The kid was all big brown eyes and a sleepy expression, with longish, slightly golden brown hair messed around his head. He was dressed in a hideous maroon and yellow jumper, at least two sizes too big and checked grey pyjama pants, topped off with mismatch socks- one of which had cartoon anchors on it and the other neon bright numbers.

Logan found himself straightening automatically when he saw that, while his expression was sleepy, his eyes were alert and assessing him more thoroughly than he’d just done to him.

“Er… Penny?”

His expression cleared of all sleep and he offered a small, shy smile. What the hell was the Cajun doing?

“Spencer, actually, Spencer Reid. Remy heard my neighbour’s nephew mispronounce my name and used it as an excuse to give me a nickname. Do you prefer Logan or Wolverine?”

_What the-_ Logan cleared his throat and decided to just roll with it.

“Logan will be fine kid; you got a place to dump him?”

He nodded and walked round to help the passed-out Remy up, cringing slightly from the very obvious alcohol smell clouding him.

“Um, just through here…”

He was led into a small, cramped room with a small bed and a smaller wardrobe, the entire room littered in books and random knick-knacks. Remy was unceremoniously dropped on the bed, with Logan helping the kid remove Remy’s coat and shoes, before Spencer pulled the quilts up over him. He left for a minute and came back with a glass of water, two pills and tissues which he left on a bedside table. They let him be and went back into the small living room/ kitchen.

“Sorry about, you know, this.” For being so eloquent earlier, the kid was stumbling over his words now and vaguely gesturing to the bedroom. “Er, so do you need anything? I can set up the sofa if you can’t get home, or…” He trailed off, again seeming uncertain in a way he wasn’t when the focus was on Remy.

“That’s fine, kid, I wouldn’t say no to a cup of coffee though,” he looked at the clock as he spoke, “I gotta sober up enough to drive home,” _and I’m as curious as hell._

Spencer nodded and came back a minute later with a mug with the periodic table on it, which was handed to him, and a star trek mug that he kept. That was pretty much the pattern of the room- odd bits of sci-fi memorabilia and more books than he could count. He even saw a well-worn physics book in what appeared to be entirely in Polish. The whole room had the scent of coffee, sugar and old books.

The kid looked incredibly uncomfortable and Logan noticed his expression was tense; the bags under his eyes were so dark they could have been bruises.

“I don’t mean to dig stuff up, kid, but you two must have had a hell of a fight- I’ve never seen Gumbo there getting so messed up over something.”

Spencer looked down, sad and almost… ashamed, but Logan caught the unmistakeable scent of anger wafting off him. As he replied his eyes flicked up, but never stayed on him too long.

“Remy… he’s, um, he disagreed… well, hated really, the profession I’ve chosen. He told me I couldn’t do it.” At the last bit, his knuckles whitened as he gripped the mug tighter. “I’ve been offered admission into the FBI academy, specifically to train for the Behavioural Analysis Unit.”

The thief and the fed- _roll with it._

“Ah, well that explains some, kept on muttering about you being in danger, or acting stupid,” he grinned knowingly at the kid, “a bit hypocritical if you ask me.”

He huffed, quietly under his breath and his expression eased somewhat.

“Which was the basis of our argument…”

After Spencer explained what happened, he couldn’t help but feel sorry for the poor kid. Remy was, and probably always will be, a protective, defensive, cocky asshole. Spencer seemed like a good kid and while he couldn’t quite understand their relationship, the more he thought about it, the more he got a feeling of rightness. Spencer seemed to be a balm for all the deceit and cruelness that came with their line of work, but the more he talked, the more Logan realised that he had deep, inner strength that he admired.

“Listen, kid, I’ve known Remy for a while now and can tell you’re good for him, so you’ve got to understand that Remy will go off the rails every now and then.” Spencer nodded; he knew this and accepted it. “He’s also possessive and protective, but once he calms down, he’ll see it your way. You just gotta give him some time. He’ll come around. Keep standing your ground though.” And with that, he drained the last of his coffee.

As he left, he shook hands with the kid; he liked him, he had gained more assertiveness and humour the longer they talked, though his voice was always gentle and awkward seemed to be his default setting. But he never lost his cautious edge throughout the conversation that Logan admired.

“Do you think you should remind Remy that you met me? One the one hand I’ll be able to contact someone, if anything… happens to Remy. But Remy feels more secure when his personal life is secret.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll be subtle about it, kid.”

…

The next morning he saw the idiot sneaking out of the student accommodation. Logan was on him before his hand left the door and slapped him up the back of the head. Hard.

“Hey, y’ connard! Wolvie? What de hell? Why are y’ here?”

“Too drunk to remember, then? No you don’t bub." He grabbed his shoulder and kept him from moving further away from the building. "Get your skinny, ungrateful Cajun ass back up them steps and work things out with Spencer!”

Remy began to splutter, “How’d y-“

“You phoned me last night and after watching you get pathetically drunk, I dragged your ass back to _Penny’s_ \- nice cover, by the way, thanks for sharing- flat, to find an even more skinny kid-genius whose stupid enough to put up with you.”

Remy deflated, looking up at the building, “Y’ met m’ Penny? Was he okay?”

“He was sad, kid, of course he was. He spoke about you like the sun rises when you tell it to, but knew your faults; not even a bit temped to drop you when we put you in bed. I couldn’t say the same when I heard what you did.”

His head snapped back to his, with the decency to look shamefaced. “Y’ agree wit’ him then? How could y’, Logan? He’ll be-“

“Training. For the next couple of years at least. Then, if this Gideon’s tellin’ the truth, he’ll be sent straight to his team, where he’ll be in the field, but surrounded by armed police and profilers until they know he’s ready. Did you even hear him out?”

Sighing, he leaned back against the building. “Non, I didn’t, yell first, mais apparently I ain’t reached de t’ink later part yet.”

“Want some advice, kid?”

“What de hell have y’ bin doin’ so far?”

“Pointing out that you’re being an idiot.”

He snorted, “alright den, Wolvie, lay it on m’.”

“Go back upstairs, you’re too hung-over for this shit right now. Wait for you both to be awake then talk it out, like adults. Make it work.”

Remy closed his eyes, but nodded and turned to the door with a subdued ‘thanks’.

“But… if your possessive, protective side won’t die down, why not check on this Gideon? Make sure he’s not full of it.”

His face split into a grin and Remy leapt up the stairs with renewed vigour. Logan shook his head at the idiots and turned home.

…

A week later, Remy was still a no-show, but Logan saw a newspaper article on the FBI’s controversial decision to let Dr Spencer Reid, the youngest recruit ever, into the academy, being specifically groomed for the BAU. He wasn’t the only one to see it and chuckled under his breath as the Professor and Beast talked about how brilliant his PHD paper(s!) were, while several laughed and said that was no way he’d last.

“I think there’s a chance the kid will surprise you, kid might just make it.”

“Yeah, he might, if he had an angel watching over him, to try to stop the bullets from hitting him.”

Logan grinned. Some angel indeed.

…

Though the pair never spoke about Remy’s secret, a few years later when Dr Reid’s graduation was announced in the paper, Logan could see a trench-coat clad cheerer in the picture’s background and slapped Remy on the shoulder to congratulate him.

“Hard part’s over kid. Relax, he made it.”

“Non, Wolive, non. Hard part’s jus’ beginning now… Mais, I can’t wait t’ see de look on people’s faces when he locks dem away and de government gives us our rights. T’ink Remy here might jus’ propose t’ him on de spot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up will be more Spencer-centric, focusing on him with the team, Remy and keeping the balance between his personal and professional life.   
> (Better than it sounds :) )


End file.
